


The Best Kind of Surprise

by penguinparity



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Hand Job, Hand porn, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-14
Updated: 2010-05-14
Packaged: 2017-10-09 10:57:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/86529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penguinparity/pseuds/penguinparity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Marines had killed Ray's love of surprises as surely as they'd removed his brains. Unlike his brains, Ray suspected he wouldn't be getting his love for surprises back when he left. In Iraq surprises were never good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Kind of Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for entire series, a few lines of dialogue taken directly from the miniseries.

Ray loved surprises when he was a kid. His mom coming home with a second pair of shoes from Wal-Mart. His first girlfriend pushing him into the backseat of her parents’ car. Getting elected as the President of his High School debate team. Those were the kinds of surprises he’d treasured as a kid.

The Marines had killed his love of surprises as surely as they’d removed his brains. Unlike his brains, Ray suspected he wouldn’t be getting his love for surprises back when he left. In Iraq surprises were never good. They left Ray scrambling for his gas mask, hoping that the mortar fire wouldn’t get any closer and trying to forget the dead faces of people. Ray thought collateral damage was a particularly euphemistic way of saying you’d found the worst kind of surprise.

The surprises Ray used to love were no longer welcome. That first flare of arousal when he realized he was attracted to someone. The heightened senses and new awareness that came with the realization. Surprises were dangerous; they could get him killed.

Ray’s morning had started off like any other. At Oh Dark Hundred they were ordered to move for the sixth time since stopping a few hours earlier. He woke Brad up for the sixth time, the Reporter for the eighth time – Ray had kicked him awake the last two moves after yelling hadn’t worked. Turning back to their Humvee, he spotted Trombley surreptitiously eating Charms again.

“Throw those the fuck out before you get in my Victor,” he ordered as he came up. Ray tried stalking towards Trombley, but he was so sleep deprived and jittery from caffeine the end result was more of a jumpy shuffle.

“Your Victor?” Brad asked as he lumbered up. He raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Damn straight, she’s my baby,” Ray crooned as he reached up to stroke the side of his door. He looked up to see Walt already standing inside the Humvee. Walt had conned some precious meatloaf MRE out of Trombley earlier in exchange for taking his watch shift. Ray had snorted at the time, knowing full well that Walt was going to stay up trying to coax the Mk 19 into working again regardless.

In the almost nonexistent light of the waning moon, Walt ran his fingers over the barrel one last time before reaching for a dirty rag. The sight of Walt’s fingers covered in lube, glistening in the dim light was arresting. Ray’s brain immediately supplied him with images of other things Walt could be doing with greasy fingers.

\--

The problem was this didn’t turn out to be a one-time observation. Ray noticed Walt’s hands _all the time_. When he cleaned 2-1’s grenade launcher, when he ripped into an MRE, even when he picked slowly at the dirt beneath his nails. If Ray could have NJP’d his brain, he would have in a heartbeat. Ray considered it near mutinous that of all the things he could have fixated on his imagination chose Walt’s hands. He could almost understand if it had been Walt’s mouth with his tongue that was constantly peeking out. It was criminally unfair because Walt’s hands were sturdy, thick and undeniably masculine.

Ray knew all about combat stress reactions: pissing yourself, heightened senses and random dissociated thoughts. They’d learned about all of them during BRC but no one had ever mentioned the possibility of going full-on homosexual gay for your fellow Marines.

As they sat next to the abandoned Iraqi airfield, Ray watched as Walt efficiently stripped down the Mk 19. Walt talked softly the entirely time, making soft appreciative noises like Ray imagined he might talk to a woman as the grenade launcher came apart under his hands. Damned if it wasn’t the hottest thing Ray had seen since he’d caught a titty show on libo in Australia. The thought of Walt touching a woman like that, maybe the Suzie Rottencrotch at home who sent him perfumed letters, made Ray painfully hard inside his skivvies.

Ray ground his teeth against the frustrated moan lodged in his throat and adjusted himself. For once in his life he was grateful he was so svelte – not skinny, motherfucker – because his MOP suit was loose and mostly hid his untimely erection.

“Why you staring at me, fucker?” Walt’s Virginian drawl drug the words out as he looked up. He reached up to rub at his nose with the back of one grease-covered hand.

“I’m just trying to figure out how a innocent hick weaned on buttermilk like yourself would ever become a Marine,” Ray shot back.

“’m not innocent, I seen and done things that would make even you blush,” Walt muttered defensively.

“Riiiight…” Ray’s incredulous response trailed off abruptly as he watched Walt begin to wipe down another piece of the Mk-19. Walt’s hands were sure and firm in their movements from long practice. The sight caused heat to flare in Ray’s gut as he imagined how those fingers might feel on him.

Fuck, he was _so_ screwed.

Turning abruptly, Ray walked off before he could say something stupider than usual. When Ray thought about the variety of bullshit that had come out of his mouth, it had to be saying something that he was _just now_ worrying about speaking retardese.

He ended up on the other side of their Humvee, facing towards an empty stretch of the berm surrounding the airfield. He plunged his hand down into his MOP suit and wrapped his sweaty hand around his dick. Barely five rough strokes in and Walt came running up behind him, asking where Brad was.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Walt. Are you serious? My first combat jack.” Ray was slightly disturbed at how much Walt’s proximity was exciting his dick.

“Fuck your jack. We're being overrun by armor!”

“He's in his grave,” Ray said. Ray bit his lip in frustration at how close to coming Walt’s voice was pushing him. He came to the thought of Walt’s hands instead of his own.

He wasn’t a teenager anymore, Ray thought with annoyance, he shouldn’t be so keyed up that he only had to touch his dick to get off.

\--

Ray paced through their encampment, trying to work off the rush of adrenaline that had followed surviving the ambush on the bridge outside Muwaffaqiyah. The calm he’d felt in battle had been replaced by a pulsing need to _do something_ that throbbed just under his skin. He wasn’t alone in the feeling; Ray had already stumbled on several Marines working out their excitement through combat jacks.

What Ray didn’t need was to spend more time around Walt, fantasizing about his filthy hands.

“Something bothering you, brother?” Rudy appeared at Ray’s left, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Not a thing,” Ray lied.

“You’ve been unusually quiet. Your verbosity has been missed,” Rudy said with a smile.

“Bullshit. Everyone is always bitching at me to shut up. The second I stop talking and you _miss it_? You’re a sick fuck, Rudy.” Ray could see Walt climbing out of their Humvee in the distance. He felt his fists clench convulsively when Walt disappeared around the side of the vehicle.

“Someone on your mind then,” Rudy said appraisingly as he noticed the direction of Ray’s gaze.

“It’s not gay if we think you’re hot Rudy. That’s not true for everyone else though,” Ray tried but the joke fell flat.

“Love is love, brother. Doesn’t matter who it is,” Rudy said without judgment. Ray felt his stomach clench in cold panic that Rudy might know.

“Who the fuck said anything about love, you communist-gay-hippie. I don’t want any of your short-bus Zen bullshit.” Ray stormed off before Rudy could reply.

He made his way back towards where 2-1 was dug in, figuring he could take over Brad’s watch. Ray sure as fuck wasn’t going to be sleeping any time soon. Too much Ripped Fuel, conflicted thoughts and leftover adrenaline were not conducive to getting some shut-eye.

Ray managed to harass Brad into getting into his grave with very little effort. He figured it was a testament to how exhausted the Iceman must be for him to put up such a pathetic resistance.

Ray was halfway around the back corner of their victor to make sure Walt was getting some sleep too when he realized just what he was seeing. Walt was sitting on the edge of his ranger grave, helmet off and jacket open as he slowly stroked his cock.

Ray froze.

The sight sent a jolt of hot pleasure straight down Ray’s spine into his balls. Unlike the other Marines Ray had stumbled upon that evening, Walt wasn’t rushing through his combat jack. He stroked himself slowly, fingers sliding up and down before rubbing across the head of his cock. The sight of Walt’s hands moving mesmerized Ray.

Ray wondered if Walt liked to take his time when he was at home. He thought about Walt making his girlfriend dinner and then slowly pulling her towards their bedroom. Ray could practically see it; Walt pushing her down onto their bed and pushing up her skirt to mouth at her cloth covered pussy. He bet Walt liked eating her out. Walt was so nice and polite he’d probably hold one of her hands and kiss her thighs softly as he slipped his fingers into her folds to touch her. Walt would make sure his girl got off long before he’d pull his own pants down.

Ray’s reverie was broken by Walt’s panting. His hand had sped up and he focused on rubbing the head of his dick. Ray shifted, trying to surreptitiously adjust himself without being noticed. He knew he needed to walk away and soon, before Walt finished and noticed him. But Ray couldn’t tear himself away from the sight.

Reaching down, he palmed himself through his MOP suit and skivvies. It wasn’t the most pleasurable feeling but Ray was so fucking hard he didn’t think it’d take much to make him come. Two hard grinds against the palm of his hand and Ray was shooting come all over the inside his shorts.

Breathing raggedly through his nose in an effort to keep quiet, Ray slid back around the corner of the Humvee just as Walt groaned softly.

Fuck, as if that noise wasn’t going to be seared into Ray’s brain forever.

Ray was pretty sure he hadn’t been noticed when Walt didn’t emerge from behind their vehicle. He was doubly sure the next morning when Walt shook him awake instead of stabbing him with his Ka-bar. Then Walt smirked at him and Ray spent the morning second-guessing himself.

\--

Surprises sucked, Ray knew this. It made him angry that Walt had to learn that lesson so harshly. It had been nearly four days since Walt had shot the civilian at the roadblock outside Muwaffaqiyah and he’d barely spoken even two words. When they’d dug in south of Al Kut, he’d spent the entire time staring blankly at his after action report.

They were nearly to the POG camp south of Baghdad and Walt hadn’t said a word. Brad looked into the back seat and reminded Walt for the third time to hold his gun up and watch his sector.

Ray was relieved that his newfound gay conversion for Walt seemed to be temporarily derailed by concern for his fellow Marine. At the same time, the realization curled painfully in his chest with guilt that he was glad for a distraction from his own thoughts.

\--

Ray was sulking up against the back tire of their Humvee when he heard Walt return from somewhere else in the POG camp. Ray was still annoyed at Brad's remark about acting more like their resident little psycho Whopper Jr. Enough that he'd pointedly ignored Brad's order to clean off his face from eating his milkshake earlier. Walt slumped down beside him but didn't say anything.

Ray shoved his knee up against Walt's thigh, hoping the contact would at least bring some reaction. Walt tilted his head back and stared expressionlessly at the sky, not moving away but not moving into the contact either. Slightly encouraged, Ray shifted his weapon so it was resting between his splayed thighs and laid his hand on his own thigh centimeters from Walt's.

Walt didn't move, just continued to stare at the gray Shamal-tinged sky. Ray could hear the sounds of the POG camp all around them: Marines yelling at each other, tussling, and bitching. Brad had fucked off to who knows where and Trombley was asleep in the Humvee again.

It felt like years later when Walt's hand slipped up to his knee, brushing Ray's. Ray couldn’t help but grin. With some difficulty he forced his mind to focus on thinking of a way to make Walt smile and not on how close Walt’s hands were to his own body. An idea occurred to him and he grinned.

"That's right, I knew you couldn't resist. My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard." Ray smiled wider and glanced over at Walt. He wiped away some of the leftover milkshake away from his mouth.

Walt was still staring at the sky but for the first time in days his gaze was focused. The sight lessened the tension thrumming in Ray’s chest. Ray might try to leapfrog past some of the small steps; but he could definitely deal with small steps. Anything was better then the wrecked and broken expression Walt had been wearing for days.

"Goddamnit, Ray, I thought I told you to clean that shit off your fucking face," Brad bellowed when he rounded the corner and spotted them. Ray scrambled up with a glare. He tromped around the car as noisily as possible, slamming his door open to find something to wipe his face off with.

When Ray turned around he found Brad leaning over the open door, watching at him speculatively.

"Did your little whiskey-tango mating call work, Person?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Sir." Ray jerked the door out from under Brad's arm and slammed it shut.

"Well, you must have done something right, Hasser nearly cracked a smile after you got up. So keep it up," Brad said. He clapped Ray on the shoulder and walked off, leaving Ray to stare after him speechless.

\--

Walt was smiling more after Ray’s antics at eating ravioli. It was great, fucking peachy, but it brought with it a whole new host of problems for Ray. Like how he wanted to curl up around Walt and whisper stupid, filthy jokes into his ear until he started laughing again. Ray found himself deliberately picking MREs from their stash in the Humvee that had the best potential for sloppy eating.

By the time they arrived at the abandoned cigarette factory, Ray’s fixation had returned full force. As soon as they’d made camp, Walt pulled the Mk-19 down and started disassembling it in a futile effort to get it unjammed again. Ray watched Walt pull out the nearly empty bottle of LSA and set to work. Swallowing thickly, Ray turned and forced himself to walk away before he got caught staring again.

Their camp provided Ray a rare opportunity for some semblance of privacy. As soon as his watch ended, he made his way back into the abandoned building. Prowling silently up through the floors, Ray worked his way to the third floor. High enough up that Marines milling about weren’t likely to stumble upon him but below the sniper teams camped out on the top floor.

He slipped into a darkened room midway between the two stairwells and collapsed behind the desk inside. Ray was horny as fuck after spending his watch shift thinking about Walt’s greasy, lube covered hands but he wasn’t stupid enough to sit in view of the window where enemy snipers might spot him.

Ray pulled the belt on his camis open and eased the zipper down. He reached in and pulled out his dick; still half hard from his fantasizing earlier. He tried thinking about the beautiful big tits and pussy he’d seen in Brad’s copy of _Juggs_ earlier. Jasmine had been fucking hot, spread out over to a leather saddle and holding a riding crop against her clit. As Ray worked himself he tried to think about fucking her tits. Each time he imagined touching her, his mind instead supplied images of Walt lying behind her as he flicked his fingers across her nipples. In his mind’s eye, Ray saw Walt slowly caress one hand down towards her swollen pussy as he stared straight at Ray with that hot as shit smirk.

Ray heard the sound of someone walking down the hallway outside but ignored it. Marines knew to respect another man’s jack. Ray bit his lip on a frustrated groan as he gave up on Jasmine and pulled up his memory of watching Walt masturbate.

The footsteps outside slowed to a stop outside the door and Ray screwed his eyes shut.

“Fuck, a little privacy would be appreciated asshole,” Ray yelled as the door started to creak. The movement stopped and Ray heard the footsteps retreat back down the hall. For a moment, Ray entertained the idea that it had been Walt in the hallway, following him up here to join in. The thought sent him over the edge and Ray was coming into his hand.

Ray cleaned himself up and sat staring up at the peeling wall above him. He knew he was so fucked. Even the afterglow of his orgasm was soured by the realization that what got him hard as fuck was the thought of Walt.

Ray heaved himself up off the floor and made his way back out of the factory. He found Walt sitting next to their Humvee eating one of their disgusting meat chunk MREs. Brad was talking to Poke and Rolling Stone over next to another vehicle. Trombley was probably still on watch.

“Feeling better?” Walt asked as Ray sat down next to him.

“Fucking amazing,” Ray said sourly.

“You on your period or something? Been bitchy lately,” Walt mused before he took another bite of his mystery meat MRE.

“Fuck you, Walt. I’m not the one who went all weepy for days like I have a goddamn vagina.” Ray could tell his voice lacked its customary heat and he couldn’t find it in himself to give two shits. Walt laughed, which Ray took as an excellent sign of Walt’s return to the realm of functioning people.

Walt looked at Ray speculatively as he chewed his food. Ray found he liked that look a lot less; it was definitely measuring and assessing him.

“So what did you think about?” Walt tossed his empty MRE packet into their makeshift trash bag and leaned back against the wheel of the Humvee.

“I have many thoughts, most of them important and too much for your short-bus Whiskey Tango GED brain to understand. You’ll have to be a little more specific,” Ray replied.

“When you - you know.” Walt gestured with his hand, fingers circled loosely and moving lazily up and down. Ray stared at Walt’s hand, mesmerized for a moment at the sight of Walt stroking an imaginary dick. He swallowed against a suddenly dry mouth and cleared his throat. He tore his eyes away from the sight; incredibly thankful for the darkness that hid the flush he could feel heating up his face.

Walt was inviting him to share his masturbatory fantasies. Ray realized quite suddenly that it _had_ been Walt in the hallway earlier.

“Jasmine and her fantastic titties,” Ray said. It was the partial truth, at least. Ray was positive Walt assumed his fantasy had involved boobs and pussy. If Ray hadn’t known better, he could have sworn Walt looked momentarily disappointed at his answer.

“I’m going to get some sleep, I’m ready to sleep the sleep of the fucking dead, homes.” Ray grabbed his pack from the Humvee and lay down facing away from Walt.

“Wake me up when it’s my watch,” Ray said as he stretched out uncomfortably on the concrete.

“Rodger that.” Walt’s voice drifted in softly behind him.

\--

Ray knew he was in the shit in a bad way. That was not a surprise. At some point his brain had gotten schwacked and now his wires were crossed and misfiring worse than the company’s radios. He was in the middle of a _war_ and having some kind of fucking sexuality crisis by going gay for one of his teammates. Ray thought maybe all the Ripped Fuel and coffee crystals had finally fried his brain. At least then there’d be an explanation for all of this.

After they’d moved camp to the soccer stadium, Ray traded away the last reserves of his Ripped Fuel for some of the clear Gin-like alcohol Jacks had found. He was sitting on the hood of his Humvee taking occasional swigs when Walt hopped up next to him. Ray continued looking out across their camp; Lilley was still filming stupid shit for his damn movie, Rudy was doing pushups in his skivvies, and Reporter was drifting from group to group.

Ray finally looked over when he felt Walt’s knee nudge his own. Walt had pulled off his shirt and was leaning back against the hood on his elbows.

“Is your body even genetically capable of getting anything besides a farmer’s tan?” Ray asked.

“Shut up, Ray,” Walt replied agreeably. He reached out after a moment, waggling his fingers at Ray. When Ray simply raised his eyebrows, Walt let his hand drop loosely onto Ray’s upper thigh.

“C’mon, share with me, don’t be a fucker,” Walt said with a slight smile. Ray swallowed, his eyes closing momentarily at the heat of Walt’s hand so close to his crotch. He handed over the bottle silently and looked back out across the camp. The feel of Walt’s hand on his leg was bad enough; Ray didn’t need to risk making the situation even more dangerous by looking down.

Walt grabbed the bottle with his other hand and took a long swig. His hand slid slowly off Ray’s leg after he passed the bottle back and lay back down on top of his shirt. Ray could still feel the heat of it like a brand on his skin long after.

“We should start a band when we get back, homes,” Ray blurted out. He wondered if maybe he’d drunk that Gin a little too quickly, he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

“I hate punk music. ‘sides you said your last band was fucking terrible,” Walt replied from behind him.

“Oh, it was, homes. It was kind of epic just how much we sucked. I think Kansas City on both sides of the river might have tried to outlaw us from playing if we hadn’t broken up.” Ray leaned forward in the sun, his arms dangling loosely over his knees.

“But you and me? We would be fucking awesome. You’ve got a voice like an angel came in your throat and I can play a mean bass. We could start a country band and write songs about how awesome war is. Show those limped dick fucks back home what they’re really rooting for when they spout all their patriotic, red white and blue bullshit.” Ray grinned at the thought.

“Whatever you say, Ray,” Walt replied, his voice soft as he drifted off to sleep.

\--

Ray knew he needed to unfuck this situation. Being around Walt all the time was having a serious effect on Ray’s mental stability. When they left Baghdad, Ray busied himself with anything and everything that allowed him to avoid the rest of his team. He talked shit with Poke, sang trashy pop songs with Lilley and Christeson, planned out ways to celebrate Dirty Earl’s new holiday. Ray figured if he gave himself some space from Walt, maybe this fixation would stop and they could go back to being buddies without Ray wanting to dry hump Walt. It had to be proximity and combat stress, he thought.

Except Ray found himself repeatedly drifting back towards 2-1 each time they made camp. He missed giving Trombley shit, teasing Walt and bickering with Brad. Ray realized that he actually enjoyed Walt’s company. Christ but he was so fucked. Ray thought sourly that he was doomed to live a life of pathetic gay chastity, pining away like a little fucking girl after the most wholesome heterosexual the Marines had ever produced.

By the time they’d arrived at the Marine camp south of Baghdad, Ray had given up. When he sat down to help sort ammunition with the rest of the team, Brad glanced up from speaking with the LT to eye him.

“Hey, where the fuck did you go? You haven't said two words since Baghdad,” Brad asked.

“No more Ripped Fuel. Man, it seems no matter where we go as Marines, it's always some fucking shit-hole,” Ray replied. It was a partial truth, not exactly a lie. His mind had been in upheaval and coming down from a perpetual adrenaline high had only helped him find his verbal filter.

Rolling Stone walked up to say his goodbyes, saving Ray from having to explain further. Poke followed moments later to mention the football game they were starting up.

“Fuck it. I’ll play,” Ray said. He figured it might be a good way to work out his frustration.

“Back among the living?” Brad asked sardonically. Ray flipped him the finger as he walked off.

Rudy walked over to Ray as they began to gather for the game.

“How are you, my brother? You’ve been quiet again.” Rudy’s voice was open and welcoming, as if encouraging Ray to talk about his feelings like a damn teenage girl.

“Fuck you, Rudy,” Ray spat. Rudy’s concern grated against Ray’s pride in a nasty way. Ray’s only consolation had been to think that no one else had an idea what kind of problems he was dealing with. It wasn’t like he could just talk about a sudden sexuality crisis; he was a Marine for fuck’s sake.

“You ain't shit, Rudy. C'mon, my sister needs her shorts back,” Ray called as they lined up for another play. Rudy just grinned back easily.

Three plays later Rudy plowed through Ray as if he were nothing, shoving him into the ground. Ray didn’t know what the fuck was wrong with him, but it suddenly infuriated him that Rudy could manage to act so copasetic about everything. Fuck him and his gay-ass Zen bullshit.

“Motherfucker!” Ray leapt at Rudy and tackled him to the ground. Rudy had him pinned and in a headlock in an instant.

“I'm gonna fucking kill you!” Rudy yelled into his ear as he punched Ray in the ribs. When Poke and Manimal managed to pull Rudy off him, Ray spat blood into the dirt.

“Motherfucker! You goddamn fucking piece of shit! Rudy! You fucking PTSD psycho! You're just like every other jock piece of shit in high school!”

Ray felt the fight go out of him just as quickly as it had appeared. He could hear Rudy and Poke calling after him as he strode away. Ray retreated back towards the building they were camped in, heading up to the second floor to find an empty room. He found a vacant room with a flat bench sitting near the window.

Sitting down, Ray straddled the end of the bench so he could rest his head in his hands.

“Get yourself the fuck together, homes,” Ray said to himself. He scrubbed at his eyes in frustration. He felt untethered, as lost in the quagmire of this war as he was in his own feelings.

“The Marines’ll make you gay, they should put _that_ in their recruiting video. I wonder if they’ll take my picture off the Wal-Mart Wall of Heroes when I get home.” Ray laughed flatly at himself.

Ray started as he felt someone drop down onto the bench, sliding right up behind him. Before he could move, Ray felt strong arms wrap around him.

“Doesn’t make you less of a hero,” Walt said as his breath fanned across the back of Ray’s neck.

“What?” Ray asked stupidly. He couldn’t even find the will to jump up or move away, this was so beyond the realm of what his brain was expected to handle.

“Bein’ gay,” Walt clarified, “doesn’t make you any less of a hero. And anyone who thinks that can shove a bald eagle up their ass.” Ray blinked for a moment is shock before the joke registered and he started laughing helplessly.

“There you are,” Walt said with a smile pressed into Ray’s neck. “I like it when you smile for me.” Ray couldn’t help but grin, relief pulsing through his veins with the knowledge that he wasn’t alone in this. He turned his head to look at Walt.

Walt leaned forward and kissed him clumsily. The angle wasn’t ideal, but Ray opened his lips under the assault of Walt’s tongue. They kissed hungrily, breath stuttering across their lips.

“Shit, Walt,” Ray groaned. One of Walt’s hands skated up Ray’s chest to wrap around his jaw as Walt took possession of the kiss. Ray moaned at the realization that Walt was manhandling him. He felt like he might fly apart except for the pressure of Walt’s hands.

Walt tugged Ray backwards until he was flush against Walt’s chest. Ray could feel Walt’s thighs bracketing his own and the hard line of Walt’s cock up against his ass, burning into Ray’s skin through their clothes.

Ray ground the heel of his hand roughly down against his own crotch, trying to alleviate the pressure on his cock. Walt’s other hand wrapped around his wrist, stopping him.

“Fuck, I can’t stop thinking about your hands.” Ray bucked his hips helplessly, pushing back against Walt and then trying to grind up against his hand.

“I know. Shit, I was so sure you were staring, just couldn’t figure out how to get you to say it. The one time in your life you didn’t speak your fucking mind to anyone with ears,” Walt whispered as he pulled away slightly.

“Christ, you knew? You were fucking with me this entire time, bastard.” Ray’s rant stuttered to a stop at the feeling of Walt mouthing at his neck. He could feel Walt’s fingers stroking against the sensitive skin on the inside of his wrist. The dual sensations sent thrills through his body and had him achingly hard in record time.

“Let go of my hand,” Ray whined desperately, “I’m gonna come in my pants if you don’t let me go.” Walt’s hand around his jaw slid down to loosely grasp Ray’s neck, tilting his head backwards. Ray didn’t even want to classify the needy noise that escaped him at the feeling of Walt manhandling him.

“You like my hands, Ray? Do they make you hard?” Walt whispered. He released Ray’s wrist but pushed his hand away from his pants. Walt jerked Ray’s pants open one-handed and pulled out his flushed, leaking cock. “Is this what you thought about, me touching you like this?”

Ray groaned at the sensory overload of Walt’s hands and words. He couldn’t take it; he was going to come faster than the time he’d lost his virginity.

“Shh, you’ve got to be quiet,” Walt hushed him. Ray shook his head, breathing raggedly, and unable to even form the words to protest. Walt let go of Ray’s neck and slid his fingers across Ray’s lower lip. “Are you going to be a good boy and stay quiet if I let you suck on my fingers, Ray?”

The very thought sent Ray over the edge. His hands tightened on Walt’s thighs as he felt his orgasm hit him. Ray bit his lip almost bloody as he jerked against Walt, spilling hot spurts of come all over his hand.

“Fuck, you are so freaking hot,” Walt murmured into the shell of Ray’s ear. Even in his shuddery afterglow, Ray twitched in pleasure at the feeling of Walt’s tongue on his neck.

When he could control his limbs again, Ray grabbed Walt’s hand and pulled it up to his mouth. He lathed Walt’s palm and fingers with his tongue, cleaning off his own come.

Walt moaned into Ray’s shoulder and slid his other hand down to touch the skin just under the waistband of Ray’s pants. Pulling him back, Walt grasped his hip tightly as he thrust up against Ray’s ass.

Ray licked the last of his come off Walt’s fingers and sucked two of them into his mouth. He moaned encouragingly around Walt’s fingers and pushed back to meet the jerk of his hips. A few more minutes of this and Ray was sure he could be ready to go again. He drug his tongue across the pads of Walt’s fingers before sucking on them wetly.

“Shit, Ray. Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Walt panted as his hips jerked one last time against Ray. Walt’s hand slid bonelessly from Ray’s mouth as he collapsed forward onto Ray’s back.

“Damn,” Ray drew the word out appreciatively. “If you’re like this when I suck your fingers, you might just die when I finally suck your cock.”

“Promises, promises,” Walt replied sluggishly. His arms slid loosely around Ray’s waist. “Have you even sucked a dick before?”

“Irrelevant, Hasser. You should know by now that I’m a fucking genius at anything I apply myself to.” Ray grinned, staring towards the sunny window as his hand came to rest on Walt’s.

“I guess I’ll just have to surprise you with my mad skills,” Ray continued.

“Fucking hate surprises,” Walt muttered. Ray just laughed.  



End file.
